The Missing Violin
by Chazymandias
Summary: John is getting fed up of Sherlock never getting the milk. Then something strange happens. Pretty much a crack fic.


**This is based on the cover picture which Kay drew for me and therefore this is for her, the picture is also viewable on her deviantart (link on our profile)**

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived two men who went by the names of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They resided together in a flat which went by the name of 221B Baker Street. It was a small flat with 2 bedrooms, a living area and a reasonable kitchen. The bedrooms were messy, the living area more so and the kitchen was hazardous to human life.

The kettle had acid in it, the toaster hid a gun and the biscuit tin held a selection of dead rodents. Worst of all, however, was the fridge. The fridge contained nightmares beyond belief: a bag of toes, a carton of congealed blood, some fingers concealed in an egg box, a human head and a mouldy lemon.

All of this was due to Sherlock. For you see, Sherlock experimented. On everything. Which annoyed John because if the fridge is filled with body parts then there was nowhere for his milk. Meaning it went off very quickly, which was a disaster as both John and Sherlock liked tea. Tea with milk in.

Another thing that annoyed John was that it was always him who had to get the milk. Sherlock was too lazy, too busy, too bored to ever consider getting the milk himself. So every other day John set off to the shops to buy a new bottle of milk for their tea. And every other day he tried to persuade Sherlock to get the milk this time. Without success.

Then one day everything changed. Sherlock was out. John didn't know where, he was just out. There was a knock on the door. That in itself was strange as their house keeper who claimed she wasn't didn't bother knocking and no-one else wanted to come into the flat. The knock came again. John got to his feet and crept over to the door in an exaggerated style. The not making any sound part of his plan failed when he fell over a pile of Sherlock's books, which crashed to the floor, and swore loudly.

Giving it up he opened the door. Blinked. Shut the door. Opened it again. Blinked again.

"Okaaaaaaaay…"

"I heard you needed help"

"Is that a cow?"

John took in the sight before him with wide eyes and dropped jaw. A wizened old man stood on his doorstep, of the upstairs flat, with a cow. Yes, a cow.

"I heard you needed help"

"Help with what? And from who? How did you get a cow up the stairs?"

"That doesn't matter. You have a milk crisis, do you not?"

The old man smiled. John realised the man had no teeth. This confused him.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a crisis…"

"You constantly run out of milk and your flatmate refuses to get any leaving you to do it all yourself. I'd call that a crisis"

By this point John was beginning to get scared, yet the man was strangely charming.

"Well then yes, a crisis."

"Have my cow."

"Have your cow?"

"It seems lack of milk has not affected your hearing"

"Just like that?"

The man smiled.

"Oh no. I will return for my cow in a week, but this will solve your problem."

"How exactly?"

The mans smile grew and the cow started fertilising the staircase.

"Give me something that belongs to your flatmate. Something he uses frequently. I will keep that for the week and when I return we can trade items. It will make him realise the trouble you have."

John thought for a minute. He smiled back.

"Wait right here!"

He turned and strode back into the flat. When he arrived back at the door he had a violin in his hands. Sherlock played the violin whilst thinking. This item he would miss a lot.

"Will this do?"

The old man's eyes glinted.

"That will do fine!"

He snatched the violin, threw the rope attached to the cow at John and ran, with remarkable speed, down the stairs, leaving John staring at the cow.

"Well, I suppose you ought to come in then."

The cow was well settled in a corner of the living room when Sherlock arrived home. It has just started chewing a pile of paper that had been left on the table when Sherlock came in.

"John, why is there a pile of manure on the stairs?"

John didn't look up from his book but inside he was skipping. He'd prepared this answer.

"Oh. I swapped your violin for a cow."

"You. Did. What."

Sherlock's voice had gone very quiet and menacing. John looked up and gestured to the corner.

"There's the cow, your violin's gone. However, now we'll never run out of milk again!"

"I'd like you to take the cow and go and swap them back."

John smirked.

"I'm not doing that. Why would I? Now I don't have to go to the shops constantly."

"I'll go to the shops, I'll do whatever you want, just get me my violin back."

John was internally skipping.

"Prove it. If you keep that promise for a week I'll get your violin back."

So Sherlock went to the shop to get milk, argued with the cow but managed for a week. Then a knock came at the door again. Sherlock answered it this time.

"JOHN!"

John ran to the door. Smiled and gave the man a thumbs up then went to get the cow. When the man saw the cow he grinned and ran to it.

"Oh I've missed you" he crooned.

"And my violin?" insisted Sherlock.

"It's here"

The man handed the violin to Sherlock who cradled it against his shoulder like a baby. John just stood and stared at the two men bemusedly.

Once Sherlock had finished saying hello to his violin he loomed over the man with the cow.

"I'd like to… thank you? For helping me to understand."

The old man chuckled and shook his hand heartily.

"I shall leave you two in peace now"

He clicked his fingers and vanished.

John and Sherlock shook their heads and blinked. What were they doing standing out there?

From then on Sherlock took turns with John getting the milk, they never heard from the old man again and they all lived happily ever after. The end.


End file.
